ethics [ogoc]

six

Lucy Marie Johnson.

I step inside of the loud, crowded home once again, quickly closing the sliding glass door behind me. The strong smell of weed and smoke outside is replaced by the strong smell of alcohol and sweat inside. Bodies are everywhere, from arms in the air to feet on the ground, all moving to the beat of the music.

I push my way through the densely-packed family room to get to the living room in search of Gabi. There are several scattered people making out against the walls and hundreds of red cups littering the floors, making the rooms very difficult to navigate. Once I finally make it through the main hallway, I hear chanting coming from the kitchen up ahead.

"21, 22, 23..."

The majority of the room shouts in unison. I squeeze through tipsy onlookers to get a better view of what's going on.

"24, 25, 26..."

I finally reach the center of everyone's attention; a five foot seven, brown-haired, blue-eyed beauty being held upside down while chugging beer from a nozzle in front of 50 different people. Ladies and gentlemen, this is my best friend attempting a kegstand.

"27, 28, 29..."

Before "Westside's Golden Girl" turns into "Westside's Girl Gone Wild", I decide to intervene.

"Stop, guys, get her down from there!" I yell at the two boys holding her ankles. I reach for her head and I slowly lift it right side up, praying that Gabi doesn't use this opportunity to throw up all of the beer she just chugged. Once she's standing up and off the keg, I pull her away from the kitchen and into a small, dark room. I feel around the walls for a light switch, and after a few seconds, I find one. I flick it upwards to reveal that we're standing alone in some kind of storage closet.

"Are you okay, Gab?" I ask, using the back of my hand to wipe her face for her.

"I am just great," she laughs, putting one hand on my left shoulder and using the other hand to take off her heels. She tosses her shoes onto the floor and puts her bag and phone on the third shelf in the closest.

"You've only been here for like ten minutes, you can't possibly be drunk yet," I say.

"I'm not," she responds, "But I was going to be, before you interrupted me."

"Why were you trying to get drunk anyway?" I retort and put my phone in between her purse and a pack of batteries.  "Usually you and I just have a drink or two and dance together until the boys want to go home."

"Well, tonight is different," she mutters.

"How is it different from any other party we've been to in the last month?" I cross my arms.

"I just have things to do tonight, that's all."

The loud chanting in the kitchen starts up again, and it sounds like everyone is calling for her to come back to finish what she started. She moves towards the door to return to the kitchen.

"Wait, what do you have to do tonight?" I ask, putting my arm out to block her from leaving.

"Nothing I can do sober," she says, quickly ducking under my arm and dancing back to the keg where her "fans" await her.